Page 22 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

She sets her glass down on the coffee table. “What kind of stupid are we talking here?”

“I… put my paws on someone.”

She tries to mask her shock, but her eyes widen, ever-so-slightly. She probably wasn’t expecting that level of stupid.

“That doesn’t necessarily have to be stupid. Who is the lucky guy?” she asks.

“Slade. You know, the guy who lives next door.”

She nods. “I’ve heard about him.

“He, um, got arrested today?” My eyes well with tears. I wipe them away. “For, um, murder. He killed someone. He confessed and everything.” More tears run down my cheeks. I try to wipe those away too, but they keep coming.

Aunt Emerald gets up and walks around the coffee table to sit next to me. She wraps her arms around me and lets me cry. It feels safe to let her see my pain. She chose the wrong person, too. A whole torrent of emotion I’ve been tamping down bursts out in loud sobs. It’s horrible. I feel like I want to die because it’s so fucking painful. But it’s a little like throwing up when you havethe stomach flu. After it comes out, a hollow calmness settles in my heart.

Aunt Emerald sits back, releasing me from her gentle embrace. “I’m so sorry, Quinny.”

“It feels like my heart is tearing in two,” I say.

Her lips tremble. “I know.”

“How do you live like this? I don’t know if I can get through the day.”

She places her hand on my knee. “You will. And you’ll get through the next day, and the day after that. I won’t lie to you. It will hurt for a long time. But eventually, the pain will fade until it’s nothing but an ache.”

“And then what? Do I just ache forever? Will I ever be happy again? I won’t ever have a mate or… children.” I sob at the last word. I’ve never been certain of what I wanted with my future, but I knew kids would be a part of it. And now… now I can’t have that either.

Aunt Emerald gives me a warm smile, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Do you know what raccoon shifters call an older omega without children or a mate of their own?”

I think back to the old raccoon shifter folk tales Mom used to tell us when we were kids. “A wise one.”

“Yes. We are an important part of raccoon shifter society. We have our place, just like everyone else.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. I can’t tell her that I don’t want to be a wise one without insulting her.

“Do you know why they call us wise?” she asks.

“Because you learned something from your mistakes?”

She winces. “No. Although, I’m sure that’s true too. The reason they call us wise is because Fate has given us a beautiful gift. In other shifter cultures, alphas can sometimes smell when they’ve gotten their mate pregnant. But with raccoon shifters,it’s the wise ones who can sense a pregnancy. We don’t smell it, we can see it.”

I’m not sure I understand. “How? What does it look like?”

“When an omega is pregnant, I can see a twinkle in their eyes. It’s beautiful, like a crystal reflecting light. Whenever I see it, joy fills my heart.” She grasps my hand and brings it to her chest. “Like right now. Quinny, your eyes are twinkling.”

I pull my hand away. “No, that can’t be right.”

She doesn’t argue with me. She just sits there, waiting—letting the truth sink in. She knows I’ve heard all the stories where young bonded omegas visited the wise ones and discovered they were carrying a litter. I thought the wise ones were healers, but that was never it. They were just Aunties or Uncles, like her.

That means I’m pregnant.

“I’m only eighteen. I have no money. My moms will be so disappointed.”

Aunt Emerald shakes her head. “No, they won’t. I know my sister better than anyone in the world, and she isn’t the kind of person to think less of you because of this. She’ll either love her grandkit to pieces or she’ll drive you to the nearest abortion clinic. Whatever you choose. But if it’s the latter, we need to keep this quiet. The laws here in Texas aren’t kind to omegas with unwanted pregnancies.”

I already know that. Living in Texas comes with disgruntled conversations at the dinner table about the state’s crazy laws. I just never thought I would be one of those omegas they talked about who travel in secret to an abortion clinic in another state or take a pill that someone’s friend of a friend got for them.

The thing is, this might be my only chance to get pregnant. Raccoon shifters like Uncle Dagger who are conceived before a bond takes hold are rare. If I abort the twinkle in my eye, I probably won’t ever have children of my own.

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